two-step tuesday

It rained. What a glorious sight!



The gentle pitter of little drops quenched the sighs of a thirsting world 

and gathered in a little puddle beside the garage.

It called her name. 

She danced with the raindrops. A jumping, stomping, splashing sort of dance.

Raindrops make good playmates.

She sat in the pool then tipped her head forward to soak up the muddy swirls with her golden locks. We bid our little pool goodbye, stopping to pour back what had gathered in the toes of the rain boots.

One dry skirt later and off we went, the pitiful song of our barren cupboards ringing in our ears. "To the grocery store!" we sang, our list in hand.

It was productive, pleasant, really, and bag fulls of God's bounty filled our trunk.

We pulled in the drive, my phone rang and I cheered with the sound of my mother's voice. 

Distracted, I emptied the car and closed the trunk, leaving my mind and my keys inside.

 I rang my knight-in-shining-armor.

He answered and sounded very happy to come rescue us.

So we danced in the raindrops, our groceries dry beneath the eave.

We waited.

What a welcome sight!

Evie begged him stay and he melted, his heart torn by the duty that called and those brown eyes. We savored those moments. Laughing at the misfortune that brought us togetherness in the middle of the day and dancing to the tune of big band swing. "Dance with me, daddy," she pleaded.

So he did.

He drove away.

We settled back into the routine of the day, a two-step Tuesday.